


Draw Me Like One Of Your French Girls

by coffeebuddha



Series: French Girls Verse [1]
Category: Castle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Get Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuddha/pseuds/coffeebuddha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Javier takes a life drawing class and Kevin is the nude model of his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Javier kind of hates his life, or at the very least he hates Lanie, because he wouldn't be taking this stupid art class if it wasn't for her. He'd be taking something manly and appropriately sweaty, like maybe weight lifting or boxing, but she had pouted. Her pout is a fucking WMD. It's _lethal_ and she's always known how to get him right in her crosshairs with it, so at nine fucking AM on a Monday while he's hungover out of his mind from a party on _Saturday_ , he stumbles into the art building, plops down onto a stool next to Lanie, and looks up to see the most gorgeous man in pretty much the entire world.

And he's naked.

Because Javier's life hates him at least as much as he hates it, he's uncomfortably hard for the entire agonizing hour that the class lasts. The model, on the other hand, lounges like it's a freaking Olympic sport and he's aiming for the gold. The way he's carelessly splayed out in front of the entire class is frankly a little obscene, and Javier wonders how the school isn't being bombarded with letters from concerned mothers _right this instant_ about it.

He mutters as much to Lanie while they're packing up their things and she just rolls her eyes at him, slugs him on the bicep hard enough to hurt, and pronounces, "It's _art_ , Sister Mary Prudish. Sack up, the semester's just getting started."

* * *

Javier can't decide if he's happy or disappointed that their model during the next class session is a tall guy with brown hair who won't stop quoting science fiction shows or winking at the girls in the classroom long enough for him to get his face right.

Lanie tells him to pull the stick out of his ass before she does it for him and beats him with the damn thing.

He's buying her coffee and a scone so she'll stop thwacking him with her sketchpad when he looks up and sees the first model walking through the student union, somehow managing to make a pink polo look sexy, with his arm draped loosely around a pretty blonde's shoulders. They're laughing together, voices low and intimate, and don't notice him standing there, even though they pass close enough that he could easily reach out and unpop the guy's collar or snatch up the sunglasses he has draped backwards over his ears.

Javier mumbles an excuse that makes absolutely no sense-there might be something about aliens and picking up a toy poodle for his grandmother-and leaves Lanie with both their coffees and a small mountain of overpriced baked goods. He heads straight to the gym and beats up on a punching bag and does crunches until he feels human enough to walk back to his dorm without wanting to snap at every douchey frat guy he sees.

* * *

Things go from bad to worse over the next few weeks. He manages to find out the guy's name in ways that he refuses to talk about, but which are _totally not creepy_ , and while he doesn't do anything as stupid as blush whenever Kevin Ryan is modeling, he can't deny feeling a little flutter whenever he walks in and finds the guy spread out like every dirty thought Javier's ever had.

He nearly drops the class after Ryan's girlfriend turns out to be another one of the models, because Ryan always tags along and makes the funniest, dorkiest comments in an almost overlookable undertone that somehow makes Javier want to jump him even more than drawing him in the buff does and _seriously_? What the hell did he ever do to deserve this?

Lanie maintains that it's the universe's way of getting him back for that time she caught him charging the guys in their high school homeroom five bucks a head to touch one of her bras and cackles like the evil, evil woman she is for a solid half hour. Javier drinks the last of her coconut rum in retaliation.

* * *

Things come to a head a while after that at the scifi model's Halloween party. Javier's busy choking down some of the punch-which is basically Everclear with some food coloring and jello shots tossed in-when Ryan and his girl burst into the room. She's dressed like a sexy poodle or a sexy cotton ball or something and Javier doesn't even know, because he's too busy trying to keep his brain from dribbling out of his ear at the sight of Kevin fucking Ryan dressed as a French maid.

Javier's boxing shorts suddenly feel like not nearly enough clothing.

He's pretty sure there's not enough clothing in the world when he runs into Ryan at the punch bowl. Ryan grins in a way that makes the earth tilt on its axis, all straight white teeth and crinkly blue eyes, and says, "Bro, you are _ripped_. Maybe you should be the one standing in front of the class and I should be the one behind the sketchpad."

Before Javier can remember how to form words, Ryan slaps him on the ass and saunters off, completely at ease in six inch heels.

It's like being stuck in an episode of the Twilight Zone, Javier thinks fuzzily, and he's too confused to be annoyed when the girlfriend, Jenny, corners him a couple drinks later. She's sweeter than he'd like her to be and after only a few minutes he's actually listening instead of just pretending to, which is how he ends up hearing all about her boyfriend back home and how 'Kevin is pretty much the best friend ever, because he keeps all the guys from hitting on me,' and oh.

 _Oh_.

When he looks up, it's to see Ryan grinning at him, slow and easy and dark with promise, and his stomach flip flops in the best way ever, because apparently his life is a little sadistic, but otherwise pretty damn awesome.


	2. Foot In Mouth Disease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Javier freaks out about a first date and Lanie continues to be her usual supportive self by laughing at him.

"What if we start talking and he doesn't like me? What if I don't like  him ?" Javier isn't freaking out, he's just trying to rationally think through the possible consequences of going on a date with Kevin Ryan so that if disaster strikes he can bypass any awkward brain freezes. If his voice just happens to rise until it's little more than a squeak by the end of his second question, then that's only because Lanie's nails are digging into his neck while she yanks his collar straight. She leans back on her heels and gives him a look of contempt that she normally reserves for things like knockoff Jimmy Choos and rolls her eyes so hard that an earthquake will probably hit China in a few minutes.

"If that happens, you bring that boy home, have hot I-can't-stand-you sex with him until you can't see straight, and then take me out for breakfast tomorrow morning so that I can laugh at how quickly your epic gay love affair fizzled."

Javier manages to maintain a sulky--but still totally manly--silence for all of fifteen minutes--during which Lanie files her nails and makes catty comments about how his shoes don't go with his outfit and the shirt he picked out is hideous--before whirling back around to Lanie and wailing, "This is going to be a fucking  _ disaster _ ."

Lanie just laughs at him and pelts him with cheese poofs until his shirt is covered with little orange circles and he has to change into the shirt Lanie had unsuccessfully tried to shove him into an hour ago or be beyond late.

In the end, he has to sprint to get to down to the parking lot where they'd agreed to meet on time, so he's panting a little bit and his hairline is dotted with sweat when he gets there. This is clearly the reason why, instead of the more traditional 'hi' or 'you look nice', the first thing out of his mouth is, "So, what, this is the Halloween costume you didn't get a chance to wear this year?"

The instant he's said it, Javier freezes, and it's only because he isn't actually in some fucking romcom that he doesn't slap a hand over his stupid,  _ stupid _ mouth, which is probably never going to get a chance to get anywhere near Kevin at this rate.

Kevin blinks at him and pushes away from the lamp post he's been leaning against, his hands stroking down the front of the garish western shirt he's wearing and his lips tipping down in a small frown. His jeans are so tight that they're probably medically unsound and Javier has to double check that his boots don't have spurs, because if Kevin decides to literally kick his ass, as is his due at this point, Javier wants to know ahead of time if he's going to get a butt full of metal. The thing is, it's a good look on him. Sexy even, especially with how his ungelled hair is falling into his eyes in a way that looks charmingly windswept, like he just got done riding a bull or sheering a sheep or whatever the fuck cowboys do, and if Javier screws this up, he deserves every jibe that Lanie sends his way.

After several seconds that stretch uncomfortably long--seriously, it's like taking a test he only knows half the answers to and every second lasts a fucking eternity--Kevin snorts inelegantly and tucks up against Javier's side. Javier isn't exactly sure what's happening, but then Kevin slides one of his hands into his back pocket for a quick grope and says, "Nah, I just figured I'd take the chance of you having a cowboy kink," and Javier's fairly certain that he's either in completely over his head or in love.

Kevin looks over at him, his mouth curved in an impish smile that Javier wants to taste, and Javier decides that he's probably both.


	3. Falling With Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the date from hell, Javier decides as he stares down at Kevin.

It's the date from hell, Javier decides as he stares down at Kevin. Kevin, who's currently flat on his back in the middle of the waterfall hole of the miniature golf course, soaked through to the skin and blowing water out of his mouth like some kind of exceptionally risque fountain at Dollywood. 

Javier's mouth flaps wordlessly, the putter that had tripped Kevin up still clenched in his hand. It's only when Kevin starts to try to get his feet under him again that he springs forward and grabs at his wrist to help. Of course, that means he drops the ball he was holding, which bounces over the bricks outlining the hole, into the water, and rolls right under Kevin's foot. His free arm windmills for a moment, and then they're both toppling over with a loud splash.

And, oh. Oh, that is _ cold_, Javier realizes, half a second before he blinks his eyes open and realizes that the firm, comfortable log underneath him is actually a firm, comfortable Kevin. Whose face is only barely clearing the water, because of how Javier's pinning him down. Heat rushes up his neck and over his cheeks so fast that Javier feels a little dizzy from it, and he rolls off of him, trying hard not to think too much about how warm and inviting Kevin's trim waist had felt under his palm when he'd braced against it.

The security guard is surprisingly nice when he kicks them out, even giving them towels before running through the spiel about how they're both banned.

Out by the car, Javier's wracking his brain for an idea-- _any _ idea--that might save this date from complete ruin while simultaneously resolutely not noticing how the water's turned Kevin's white shirt nearly transparent so that Javier--if he was noticing, which he isn't, because his mama raised a gentleman, thank you very much--can see the darker shadows of his nipples. That water really was cold, Javier thinks, absently chewing on his lower lip.

"You know," Kevin says, a clear laugh in his voice even though there's a tinge of blue creeping into his lips and his teeth are chattering, "I usually wait until the third date before I let a guy get me on my back like that."

Javier blinks, then laughs, unlocks the car, turns the heat up as high as it'll go, and doesn't say a word when Kevin shakes his head like a dog, spraying drops of water all over the upholstery.

* * *

"How was the date, Romeo?"

Kevin laughs to himself as he struggles to get his boots off and leaves them in their own small puddle by the front door. He pads through the living room into the kitchen, his wet socks leaving damp footprints behind on the fake hardwood floors, and leans against the kitchen island, where Jenny's transferring freshly baked cookies onto a cooling tray. The squelching noise that his jeans make when he perches on a stool finally makes her look up and her eyes immediately go huge and round.

"What _ happened_," she gasps, ducking into the adjoining laundry room to grab him a pair of sweats and a towel. Kevin snags a cookie while her back is turned and sighs around a perfectly moist, hot bite. Jenny gives the cookie in his hand a meaningful look that screams _ I made those for the kids in the class I'm observing this semester, and there will be hell to pay if you eat them all_ _,_ but instead of taking it away she grabs hold of him by his bolo tie and roughly starts to towel at his already drying hair.

"Jenny, my favorite Irish rose, I just had the best date of my life," Kevin says, aware that he sounds more dreamy than a Disney princess. "I swear by all that is holy, no, no, I swear by your  _ cookies_, which transcend holiness, I am going to marry that man."  



End file.
